


The Blunt Edge of Summer

by missmariie



Category: Rurouni Kenshin
Genre: F/M, Getting Together, Guilt, Jealousy, but not in a mean or argumentitive way, long overdue conversations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:27:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21743728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmariie/pseuds/missmariie
Summary: When a handsome young man comes to work on repairs at the dojo, Kenshin thinks he would be a much better match for Kaoru than a battered, retired soldier with no land to his name.Kaoru isn't ready to hear it, but she is ready to fight for what she wants.
Relationships: Himura Kenshin/Kamiya Kaoru
Comments: 11
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've come to this fandom many years late, but still noticed a lot of debate and different approaches to the linguistic challenges of writing Kenshin in English. 
> 
> I've tried to recreate the feel of watching the show with subtitles by including some of the honorifics and verbal ticks in the dialogue while omitting them from the narration. Obviously this isn't for everyone, but I hope it's not too jarring for those who prefer no Japanese at all :)

Kenshin sat on the tatami mat in the dojo with Kaoru and Mr Yamada, the contractor. He could hear the man’s son clattering about on the roof above, measuring things and taking stock of the damage from last week’s summer storm. He did not envy the boy; since the rain had passed the thick blanket of humidity that preceded it had given way to a punishing dry heat. 

“Obviously, the cost of the repairs and the timeframe will be determined by the extent of the damage,” Mr Yamada was telling him, “so we’ll have an accurate idea once Mori is done up there.” 

Kenshin fidgeted with his cup and attempted to look interested. He had never needed to care about joinery and roofing materials before, and with any luck, he would never need to care again. Even now, he was only meant to be male presence in the room that would protect Kaoru from being short changed or intimidated on account of her gender, but Mr Yamada had directed every exchange towards him. 

Kaoru was tapping a pencil on the mat next to her, and the frequency and force of the taps was steadily increasing. It did not bode well for a peaceful dinner. 

Her agitation made the stale air in the room feel hotter and heavier.

“Yamada-san,” Kenshin attempted, “Kaoru-dono is the owner of this dojo, that she is. This one is only a lodger.” 

Mr Yamada glanced between them. 

“You’re not married?” he asked. 

Kenshin held up his hands, palms forward, and began to emphatically shake his head. 

“Oh no,” Kaoru corrected with a sharp glare in Kenshin’s direction and a sickly sweet smile at Mr Yamada, “I am the homeowner. Kenshin and Yahiko are leeches. 

“Yes. It is as she says,” Kenshin confirmed. 

He ran his fingers over the rough surface of the tatami. He had so little to offer to his home. 

“Hmm,” Mr Yamada mused, “if you’re sure that’s proper.”

Kaoru’s cheeks turned dark and hot, and her lips thin. 

Kenshin’s fingers stilled. His boredom had evaporated.

“It is,” Kaoru replied tightly.

Kenshin cast about for something to say or do that might ease her discomfort. He wished to reach for her, touch her shoulder in a gesture of support, but instead he busied his fingers counting the stitches in the hem of his sleeve. It would not do to strengthen the man’s impression. 

During the flurry of social missteps, Mr Yamada’s son had climbed down from the roof and slipped quietly into the dojo. He swiftly stepped into the pregnant silence that had descended, and filled it. 

“Here, Kamiya-san,” he said, brandishing paper at Kaoru, “I’ve written up a quote. It should take me about three days to complete the work, I think. Weather permitting of course.”  


Kenshin had the strong impression that Mr Yamada’s son had overheard from the brief apologetic wince that crossed his broad handsome face as he passed the papers to Kaoru. 

Mr Yamada stood and bowed slightly.

“Mori will start on the repairs tomorrow,” he told them, “It was nice to meet you.” 

He strode out of the dojo without looking back. 

Mr Yamada’s son tidied his tools unhurriedly and watched his father leave. He was a tall young man with a kind, open face and an easy bearing. 

“I am sorry for my father’s words before,” he said, once Mr Yamada was out of earshot. “If it eases your mind at all, you should know that he is a pot calling the kettle black. You should hear all the ways he is not proper once he’s been in his cups.”

Kaoru’s shoulders relaxed fractionally. 

“Thank you,” she told him. 

He shrugged, smiled, and bowed to her. 

“Pleased to meet you both. I’ll be back first thing tomorrow to start on the roof.”

“Nice to meet you!” Kenshin and Kaoru called in chorus after him. 

The smile melted off Kaoru’s face as she turned towards Kenshin. She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes at him. 

“Fat lot of help you were!” she accused. 

Seeing the glint in her eye and how she rolled up her sleeves and formed her hands into fists, Kenshin chose a tactic popular with small prey animals; he went still and quiet beside her. 

“How can you,” she jabbed him in the chest with enough force that he toppled over, “just sit there silently and let him besmirch the honour of a beautiful young girl like myself? I feed you all, I shelter you, and this is what I get in return? And you call yourself an honourable samurai.” 

She threw up her hands, climbed to her feet and marched out of the dojo, still muttering to herself. 

“Oro~,” said Kenshin from his sprawl on the tatami floor.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, Mr Yamada’s son knocked politely at the door to the dojo, and immediately got to work. 

Kenshin started on the washing earlier than usual, and placed himself and his bucket in clear line of sight of the rooftop. Paranoia was a lasting gift the war had left him, so he liked to keep an eye on any new guest on the property. Besides, something about the appearance of the Yamadas had unsettled him.

He needn't have worried; Mr Yamada’s son worked away diligently, and a pleasant humming drifted out from under the clatter and banging of his work. 

By midday it was getting hot, and Kenshin began to worry for the young man on the roof. There was clearly no means there to hide from the sun. Kenshin set off to voice his worries, and tracked Kaoru down to one of the balconies, where she sat mending a training sword. 

Part of her hair had fallen from her clip and was splashed across her face. Her fingers moved steadily, and a tiny divot appeared between her eyebrows as she considered her work.  
Kenshin hesitated at the stairs. He didn’t want to disturb her. 

He also found that he didn’t want to turn and walk away. 

A small cloud drifted across the sun changing the quality of the light, and Kaoru looked up.   
“Oh. Kenshin,” she said, a smile filling her face, “what’s up?”

A small dimple always appeared on her left cheek when she smiled like that. 

“Ah. Kaoru-dono, it’s nothing. Only, it is hot, and Yamada-san’s son has no shade.”

Kaoru frowned. 

“Oh. Should we tell him to come down?” she mused, chewing thoughtfully on a strand of her hair. 

Kenshin shrugged. 

“He is young,” he told her, “and young men are proud. I think he would stay on the roof, that I do.”

Kaoru tightened the last knot of the sword and got to her feet. She walked to the edge of the balcony and held her hand out into the sun. 

“It’s definitely too hot to leave him out there though,” she said, consternation lacing her voice. 

“Perhaps, if we were to make too much for lunch…” he suggested. 

Kaoru’s eyes lit up.

“That’s perfect Kenshin,” she exclaimed, “no man can resist my cooking.” 

She beamed at him. 

Kenshin fled into the house. 

Even after he turned away from her, the radiance of her smile burnt into his cheeks and not his back.

The promise of freshly cooked fish that would go to waste otherwise easily lured Mr Yamada’s son off the roof. Kenshin was glad they had plotted to get him inside, as his yukata was stuck to his back with sweat, and he seemed a little dazed while Kaoru was serving. 

Kenshin settled himself on the table opposite Kaoru, sliding a cup of water towards their guest as he arranged his food.

“This looks amazing Kamiya-san!” Mori exclaimed, poking at his lunch, “I don’t know how someone could be so talented at Kenjutsu and also be such a great cook.” 

He tore into his plate with relish. 

Kenshin chose not to mention who it was that had rescued lunch from its ashes. He risked a glance at Kaoru and found her staring guiltily back at him. 

“Oh, actually, Kenshin does most of the cooking here,” she admitted, “he’s much better at it than me.” 

“Now now Kaoru-dono, your cooking is just as delicious, that it is,” Kenshin retorted, watching a flush spread across Kaoru’s cheekbones even as she rolled her eyes. 

“I’m sure it is,” Mori agreed, continuing to shovel his food into his mouth. His enthusiasm was clearly unrelated to the source of the food. 

“It’s not,” Kaoru told him mournfully, “and Kenshin should know better than to lie to guests.” 

Mori tipped back his head and roared with laughter. His smile alighted on both of them, but when it turned to Kaoru it was bright and strong in a way it hadn't been when it was directed at Kenshin. 

And of course he would be smiling at Kaoru. She was beautiful. 

And judging from his broad guileless smile, he was of the right age for her.


	3. Chapter 3

The repairs wore on, and Mori’s sweet, steady singing continued to tumble from the rooftop into the garden, the hallways, and the hidden nooks of their home. The sun battered against the world, and the heat leached into the ground only to radiate out and soak the air even at night. 

On the second day they ate a thin dry fish that Kenshin had caught in the river for lunch. Mori complimented his fishing despite the size of his catch. 

On the third day Mori brought them pears. 

On the fourth day, Kenshin found Kaoru lingering in the doorway of the kitchen turning a bright yellow hairpin he had never seen before over in her hands and staring thoughtfully out the window. She started when she realised he was watching, then smiled bashfully. 

“I should put a bell on you,” she told him, “or tell Yahiko to follow you around. He couldn't sneak up on a drunk elephant.” 

“Ahh, there’s no need for that Kaoru-dono. Yahiko is busy enough with his work at the Akabeko.”

They stood in silence beside each other in the hall watching a bird that had retreated into the shade of their garden. Occasionally Kenshin caught a glimpse of Mori as he clambered about on the tiles. 

Mori’s yukata had become rumpled in the heat of the day, and was sticking to his broad shoulders. It had fallen slightly open at the front, and his collarbone and the plane of his chest were clearly visible. 

Kenshin was struck by the understanding that Kaoru had not been contemplating the garden. 

“That is a gift,” Kenshin observed, gesturing to the hairpin. 

Kaoru shifted uncomfortably, and shrugged. She shoved the pin into his hands, and drew up her hair with a deft but careless hand. 

“Here,” she told him, turning away, “help me with this.” 

Some sweat had gathered at the nape of her neck. Kenshin deliberately pulled his eyes away and concentrated on settling the hair pin securely into the bun she had made. He captured a few strands that threatened to escape and pulled them into the construction. Her hair was fine and satiny and less porous than his own. 

“If you’re going down to the river to fish, I’m coming along,” Kaoru decided. 

“Then this one will go fishing,” he told her. 

She reached up to where he was fussing at her hair and batted him away. 

“You don’t need to be so gentle Kenshin. I have a hard head.” 

“Indeed,” Kenshin agreed as he fetched his fishing gear. 

They walked together in silence, under the blunt pressure of the sun. Kaoru was subdued, and cast soft glances his way, and Kenshin was too preoccupied with a steady sense of foreboding to stoke the conversation between them. The world around them echoed their hush; the day had withered with the heat, and the air was turning sour and thick as the damp gathered in the sky. It was a relief to reach the river and the cool breeze that blew off it. 

They settled themselves side by side on the bank under the patchy shade of an old worn out tree. Kaoru was uncharacteristically quiet as she watched Kenshin fuss over his fishing gear. She plucked a stick from the ground and began to nervously peel the bark from it with her fingers.

“He has asked to join our families,” she told him simply. 

There was no need for her to elaborate. 

Kenshin took a moment to run his fingers across the damp grass, feeling the cool of the stems and the grit of the earth beneath them. 

“I see,” he replied. 

He kept his eyes fixed on the point where river and shore met, but he could feel Kaoru’s stare resting heavily on him. When he remained impassive under her scrutiny, she sighed. 

“He seems a fine man, that he does,” Kenshin offered eventually. 

He caught Kaoru’s eye, and smiled. His expression, he reflected, was probably a little strained. Kaoru didn’t seem to notice. She scowled back at him, her face scrunched up in deep thought. 

“He is,” she agreed slowly, “but I don’t think I can agree to become his wife. I’m already… my love is with another. Although, sometimes I don’t know if I should wait for him, or take an offer like this. I thought…” she paused and waved an accusing hand in his direction, “I thought I’d ask what you think I should do.” 

Kenshin blinked.

Kaoru had found a way to ask him about his intentions without a hint of impropriety. 

Kenshin smoothed down a hem on his sleeve, and considered his reply carefully. His heart needed a moment to settle itself.

“He is near your age, and could provide for you, that he could. I do not think old men with no means and no place in this new era should take the hearts of young girls. It is not right.” 

He kept the regret from his voice as best he could, and plucked a long blade of grass from the earth as he spoke.

He focused on the grooves of the leaf between his fingers. 

The sap where he had severed it was cool. It was more pleasant than the relentless wet heat that sat against his skin. 

Kaoru startled him with a frustrated cry. He turned towards her in surprise in time to watch her lurch to her feet and hurl her shredded stick into the water. He stared up at her. 

“And what if I want you to?” she demanded. 

Kenshin almost smiled. Kaoru’s fiery nature could only manage subtlety for so long. 

He turned his palms outward on his lap, and held himself still. 

“Kaoru-dono, it would not be right,” he repeated, “It would be like wearing your finest white silk to the butchers.” 

Kaoru’s chin wobbled a little, and Kenshin turned his eyes towards the glint of the water and let his hair cover his face. 

“I’m not a dress,” Kaoru said emphatically, stamping a foot on the soft river soil. 

Her next breath was a ragged sob, and Kenshin heard her turn and run back towards the dojo. He listened to her footsteps as they faded from earshot, and let the blade of grass fall from his fingertips.


End file.
